Trip reports
Raja Ampat 2005 Part 1: getting there
iriandiving.com
I first read about Max Ammer and Irian Diving in the 1999 Periplus Diving Indonesia book, which Alice and I purchased while planning our first visit to Bali. The section on Irian Jaya, as it was still named, is located towards the back of the book, the last in a progression of increasingly remote and adventurous-sounding places. I quote:
Irian Jaya is one of the last really wild places on earth. Although a few roads have been laid that lead a bit inland from some of the population centres on the coast, parts of the interior of the western half of New Guinea, an almost continent-sized island, are still shrouded in mystery.
Appealing indeed. The book also talked about Max and his operation out of Sorong, mentioning a number of the amazing dive sites in the region. While our diving in Bali was a fantastic experience, we had already decided that Irian Diving had to be on our list of must-visit destinations. Over the years, I kept coming back to look at the Irian Diving’s web-site (here as it was in 2000). The only thing that put us off was the concept of camping, being addicted, as we are, to our creature comforts. (OK, I lie, the other thing that probably stopped us was the expense!)
Sorido Symbiosis
Sometime in 2004, Papua Diving (I think the name change had happened by then) was talking about its new resort Sorido Bay, promising comfort and style in the middle of nowhere. This seemed like our cue to visit, so I contacted Symbiosis Expedition Travel, whose brochures had piqued our interest at a recent London dive show. Anh and Chris did a stellar job of coordinating our accommodation in Singapore, Manado together with flights between the two, as well arranging our stay at Sorido – all this to tie in with some separately booked flights between London and Brisbane (we were visiting Oz before going on to Papua). Chris knows the region intimately and was able to advise on timings, activities and hotels.
To get to Sorido, which is one of two resorts Max runs on the island of Kri, you have to fly into the town of Sorong, located on the north west of New Guinea’s Bird’s Head Peninsular. At the time, the flight schedules of the local airline, connecting Manado to Sorong, and those of Silk Air (Singapore to Manado), were perfectly incompatible, meaning we had to spend a night in Manado. (In addition, we had to spend a night in Singapore after our flight in from Brisbane, making it a three day trip to get from Queensland to New Guinea!)
Donald in Manado
Getting to Manado was uneventful. Silk Air was kind enough not to charge any excess baggage on the flight from Singapore (I pretended to be ignorant of the fact that are not, annoyingly, a member of the Star Alliance – despite being owned by Singapore Airlines which is – and produced my Mileage Plus card in the hope of pre-empting any excess charges). Once in Manado, we had to make our way over to the Minahasa Hotel in town. The Minahasa (memorably described in the site linked to here as being “an all time favorite of bird watchers and high end backpackers” – er, yes, that’s us!) was recommended by Chris at Symbiosis.
The Minahasa Hotel
Avoiding eye contact is often the best approach to averting protracted negotiations with the poor souls who make their living trying to porter your baggage the 20 yards from the arrival hall to the taxis. (They really can’t be best pleased about modern rolling luggage, can they?) As usual, we did pretty well at first, but – well, there’s always one who manages to break through the fake barriers…
This time, it was Donald. Donald, who spoke great English, must have guessed we were divers and engaged us in conversation. He was knowledgeable and friendly and very keen for us to go diving with him over in Lembeh. Given that we were staying only 24 hours that, sadly, wasn’t an option. In the end, we took a ride over to the Minahasa with him and said we’d have a think about doing some snorkelling in Bunaken National Park the next morning before the flight out. In the end, we passed, the heat and travelling having taken their toll. Instead we spent a very restful Sunday morning before the flight out reading and taking in the view from the Minahasa, listening to the sounds of English Premiership football drift up from the satellite TV in the dining room below.
We make people fly
Anyone who’s travelled will probably recall that feeling of increasing unfamiliarity that grows as you hop further away from home turf. The pre-press for domestic Indonesian flights hadn’t been the very best, and we had no idea what to expect from Manado onwards. In this frame of mind, we were amused by some of the airlines’ slogans. Lion Air’s fabulous We make people fly suggests a slightly ominous element of coercion – I picture the terrified aviophobic being frog-marched on to the back of an aging aircraft past the mechanic working on the landing gear. I think we in fact flew with Wings Air (but that’s 100% owned by Lion Air anyway) – can’t quite recall.
Always fly with visiting government officials
Words of advice: if you’re looking to get a taste of the local culture as soon as you possibly can, I would always recommend travelling in the company of visiting government dignitaries and officials. We’d had this experience once before, on a flight from Rarotonga to Aitutaki in the Cook Islands. That time, it transpired we were in the company of the Governor General and some guests from New Zealand. We were treated to a display of Aitutaki dancing as they descended the aircraft steps.
West Mansuar and Kri Islands
On the flight over to Sorong (which was technically perfect), which took us over some wonderful geography, I noticed a group of Europeans scattered through the aircraft. When a large, overheated gentlemen two rows ahead took out and donned his necktie just as the seatbelt sign came on (yes, there was one – and a belt too), that was a clue: either the security officials responded well to a standard of dress a cut above that of the average “high end backpacker”, or there was some fine local dancing coming right up.
It was the latter – an impressive and characteristically fierce-looking performance, at least to the untrained eye of a first time visitor. Lens fog prevented me capturing any video, but I gathered that the Dutch ambassador and his guests enjoyed the show.
Vietato fumare!
The final leg of our journey to the Raja Ampat islands was a two hour journey by boat. Together with another 6 or so guests, we were taken by minibus for a 10 minute drive through Sorong to a small jetty. The bags were loaded into one boat and us into another, a vessel around 35 feet long, with a covered compartment – rather like a stretch water taxi. It was powered by four Yamaha outboards, with fuel in open plastic canisters loaded towards the back.
We set off as the sun began to descend, headed into a glorious orange sky. From time to time, one of the outboards would stall, the boat would slow noticeably and the noise level thankfully ease off. Behind us the lightning started to flicker over the Bird’s Head Peninsular and the light grew dimmer.
A few of our fellow passengers squeezed out onto the foredeck to watch the sunset and, in the case of one Italian gentleman, to smoke (I forget his name – let’s call him Alberto). The breeze moving through the cabin kept the rest of us reasonably comfortable.
Gradually, everyone grew used to the outboards cutting out and began to relax in the unfamiliar surroundings. Of course, while we were running on only two outboards, the breeze in the cabin dropped and the smell of the petrol grew. It was precisely at this moment that Alberto found himself unable to resist the urge to light up any longer. I watched the glow of his lighter flare in the near darkness. It took only a couple of breaths for the Americans and English (us) onboard to start getting very twitchy about the fact that he was smoking in an enclosed space, and one that by this time stank of fuel.
As he headed forward towards the foredeck, the third and fourth outboards roared back into life, the boat lurched forwards and I watched the glowing tip of his cigarette fly back through the cabin towards the open fuel canisters – it was rather like one of those slow motion clips from the Matrix. Some shouts and stamping from aft ensued and a few seconds later the drama was over.
We arrived at our destination, Kri, and discovered that all the other passengers were in fact bound for the Kri Eco Resort on the north side of the island. I wondered whether the simple wooden huts would survive the week without going up in flames, with Alberto in residence…
So we’d arrived intact and with all our baggage. Miracle.
Next installment will cover our first few days on Kri.
Stephen · Saturday, September 09, 2006, 16:55 · Permalink
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